


a merry little christmas

by dollsome



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A few days until Christmas; everyone who’s in their right mind is out finishing up last-minute gift shopping, and we’re at a pit stop in the middle of nowhere on our way to find Bigfoot. Again.” Mulder, Scully, and unabashed holiday fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a merry little christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This little ditty is 1) as fluffy as it gets, and 2) LITERALLY TEN YEARS OLD (with a few 2015 alterations), but I’ve been rewatching the series in anticipation of the revival in January, so I figured I’d post something schmoopy for Christmas, even if technically it belongs to Christmas of 2005.

“We never change, do we?” It’s not a question, exactly. He holds the door open for her, like always; she steps inside and bells jingle, light and merry, as it swings shut behind both of them. They’re greeted by a could-care-less clerk and the faint, familiar hum of florescent lights. Judy Garland turns ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ bittersweet from a crackling radio.  
  
“What makes you say that?” he asks, decidedly too awake for 5:30 in the morning.

She smiles wryly as she watches him head over to the row of brightly lit refrigerators; there’s no missing the spring in his step. He’s definitely in his element, although she’s not sure what that says about him – not only willing but arguably delighted to get up in the wee hours of the morning, all to drive halfway across the country and investigate sightings of a Bigfoot-like creature terrorizing a public schoolyard.  
  
Only Mulder.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” she responds lightly as she trails after him. “A few days until Christmas; everyone who’s in their right mind is out finishing up last-minute gift shopping, and we’re at a pit stop in the middle of nowhere on our way to find Bigfoot. Again.”

“Who says we’re not finishing up last-minute Christmas shopping?” Mulder spins away from a row of Sprites with flourish and presents one to her. “Merry Christmas, Scully.”  
  
“I’d prefer something a little more caffeinated,” she returns dryly.  
  
“Picky, picky,” Mulder mutters under his breath as he turns away to inspect the beverages. “You didn’t ever by any chance wind up with a bunch of coal in your stocking, did you?”  
  
She smirks and eyes a line of Cokes that look far more appealing than usual. “Why?”  
  
“You’re hard to shop for,” he informs her, turning around to flash her a grin. “I can see old Saint Nick getting a little pissed off.”  
  
She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Mulder. Doesn’t it seem like this could have waited ‘til January?”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Mulder asks, considering a rootbeer with utmost concentration. “Bigfoot could have picked off half the second grade class by then.”  
  
“Mulder.”  
  
“What?” He decides against rootbeer and turns back to face her again. “Listen, Scully, if you really don’t want to be here, I can drive you back and then continue on solo.” He gives her a lopsided smile. She curses him inwardly; that smile’s just signed her on for the entire ridiculous Bigfoot endeavor. “I get it if you want to go do the Christmas shopping like a right-minded person.”  
  
She pretends to take a moment to consider, just for dignity’s sake, before smiling back at him. “It’s all right. I think I can handle it.”  
  
His grin widens. “I knew I could count on you.”  
  
“As always.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
She blinks, and they both turn to see the clerk glaring at them.  
  
“How ‘bout you and the missus make your holiday googly eyes at each other when you’re not standing with the refrigerator door open, huh?” he snaps. “That’d be real holly jolly.”  
  
Mulder catches her eye for a moment, clearly amused, before shutting the door with flourish. “Merry Christmas,” he calls. The clerk grumbles something in response before losing interest.  
  
“Uh oh, Scully,” Mulder whispers, leaning in conspiratorially. “I think I might have just been degraded to the ‘naughty’ list.”  
  
“You mean you weren’t there already?” she teases, slipping away from him to grab two iced teas.  
  
“What exactly are you insinuating?”  
  
“Never mind.” She turns back to hand him one of the iced teas. “Let’s get out of here, all right? We’ve still got a few hours of driving to do. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll reach civilization again and actually track down some coffee.”  
  
Mulder nods in agreement, though most of his attention seems to have been captured by the iced tea. Deciding it’s best not to ask, she heads toward the check-out counter. The clerk glances up and scowls at her.  
  
“Hey, Scully?” Mulder says from behind her.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
He catches up to her and waves the iced tea slightly. “You know what this means, right?”  
  
Possibly.  
  
“Caffeine?” she offers wryly.  
  
He lets it go, just smiles and stands beside her while she pays. It isn’t until they’re walking out that he decides to get difficult again. (Half a minute of agreeability, she determines, might be a new record for Mulder.)  
  
“Look up,” he says casually, his hand on the small of her back as they freeze in the doorway.  
  
She’s pretty sure what to expect. Sure enough—  
  
“Mistletoe,” she observes, as flatly as she can, and meets his gaze.  
  
His eyes are, predictably, alight with mischief. “You wouldn’t leave a guy hangin’, would you, Scully?”  
  
She sighs long-sufferingly, then stands on tiptoe and presses her lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mulder.”  
  
“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he returns, smiling, and together they walk back to the car. Snow falls around them, bright as stars against the blackness of the early morning sky. Mulder starts to hum, the song from the radio, and she watches fondly as snowflakes gather in his hair.

 _Beats holiday shopping,_ she decides.


End file.
